Social Lives by Wendy Walker Read Free Book Online

eye and swatted him playfully on the arm. “I think you’re in enough trouble already. Now be a good boy and drink your scotch.”
    Barlow raised his glass, then took a drink. “Yes, ma’am.”
    They stood there for a moment, silently watching, drinking, and enjoying the comfort of each other’s company. Within the boundaries of married couples, they were as close to being friends as was possible for men and women in such a tight-knit community. Their daughters were in the same grade at the Academy. The Barlows and Halsteads had for years been thrown together at school functions, playdates, birthday parties, and the like. Then came the formal dinner invitations to the Barlow estate, swim parties, long weekends on the yacht. Despite their vastly divergent personalities, they worked well as a foursome and after fifteen years were far beyond the formalities of the other acquaintances they had cultivated.
    â€œWhat’s with all the sundresses?” Barlow asked after a while.
    â€œIt’s a summer theme: Surf’s Up. Didn’t you read the invitation?”
    Barlow looked himself over. Dark blue suit. Red tie. Standard business attire. “Clearly not.”
    Jacks smiled and shrugged. “Only you, my dear Barlow, could get away with it.”
    â€œNot according to my wife.”
    Jacks took another sip of gin and nodded silently as she turned her eyes to Rosalyn, who was stationed across the room. Also dismissing festive attire, Rosalyn was incredibly subdued. And it wasn’t just her beige suit, subtle hair, and restrained makeup. It was everything about her, the way she nursed a glass of white wine, holding her other hand around her stomach as though she were protecting the injury this incident had caused. It was in her facial expressions, the slight cheerless smile and exaggerated interest in the conversation of others. As Jacks watched the woman work the audience, she found herself surprisingly impressed. She was a tiny thing, but every inch of her was fully engaged tonight. This was a command performance, even for Rosalyn.
    â€œWow,” Jacks said.
    â€œYes. Incredible, isn’t she?” Barlow’s tone was sarcastic. “But tell me, Jacks. Honestly. Do you think all of this is really necessary? Do people really care that much?”
    Jacks shrugged, thinking that this was precisely why she and Barlow were such good friends. They were both, in their own vastly divergent ways, former outsiders.
    â€œSome of it is. Some of it is probably just . . .”
    Barlow watched her face as she struggled for the right way to say what they both were thinking.
    â€œJust my wife’s imagination?”
    â€œNo,” Jacks muttered, turning her eyes back to Rosalyn. “Not imagination so much as anticipation. She’s been burned before, and she has the scars to prove it.”
    Barlow drank some scotch. “Ah, but her most fearsome foe is dead and buried. It’s been almost two years.”
    â€œAnd sometimes a ghost can be more powerful than anything that walks among us. Especially the ghost of one’s own mother.”
    Barlow looked at Jacks carefully as he took in this bit of wisdom.
    Smiling warmly now, Jacks changed the subject. “So, all of this bullshit aside, how is Cait doing?”
    Barlow shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t have a clue. She won’t talk about it. Not that I really want to—
believe me
. But I know she’s talking to her new friends and I’m afraid they’re the ones who dragged her into all this.”
    â€œAt least it’s not just Cait. Hailey said there’s a lot of talk about it.”
    Barlow turned to face her. “Is Hailey doing it?”
    Jacks thought about her oldest daughter. She was overweight for her age, and a bit of a geek. Two things Jacks was grateful for. “No—though I guess I should say I don’t know, because we don’t ever. Do